The Consequence of Courage
by KnightwingYJ
Summary: "You can't keep us here." "We can do whatever we please with you. You and the girl." "Just leave her out of this." Leon demanded. "She's an innocent." "An innocent that carries the G-antibody." Shit, they knew about the virus. "Don't worry, we're taking very good care of her."


The creaking was obnoxiously loud and his grip on his gun tightened, though it remained at his side, ready to be raised in the blink of an eye. The motel room was dark, forcing every step to be slow, calculated, and silent. Groping hands found the light switch, and he blinked rapidly as his eyes adjusted. The motel room looks about what he paid for it, cheep and a germaphobe's nightmare. It was one of the cleanest places he had seen tonight. He moved swiftly and efficiently to clear the room. Bathroom checked. Closet checked. Balcony. The five-year-old in him had him crouching, lifting the hideous, burnt-orange bed spread to check under the frame. Clear.

Leon Kennedy straightened and moved back to the door. "It's safe." A little figure walked under his arm and he closed the door behind her, bolting it. Sherry Birkin took in the dingy little space with about as much enthusiasm as one did when picking out plots for their grave; it was just another space they could die in. "Why don't you go ahead and shower? Claire should be back soon." Leon suggested, taking her in for what seemed like the first time tonight. The yellow light reflected off the blackening red ends of her hair and the spots that littered her body like paint. Grease and grime coated every inch of her and Leon knew from personal experience that it itched.

"Okay," was the only reply he got before she disappeared into the bathroom.

Sighing, Leon sat heavily on the bed, the frame groaning under his weight. A headache was beginning to bloom right behind his eyes and his body ached in place he didn't even know could ache. He hadn't been this sore since his first day at the academy. To think, he had only graduated a week ago. It felt like a lifetime now. Another sigh escaped him as he began the long and torturous process of removing the outer layers of his uniform. The fingerless gloves were the first to go. They were caked in so much dried blood that the layers flaked off and fluttered to the matted green floor like confetti. Elbow pads went next followed by his filthy boots.

A knock at the door had him snapping to attention, sending a fiery twang through his shoulder. Adrenaline raced through his veins as he grabbed his Matilda. Pulling back the slide to make sure there was a round in the chamber, Leon stood. He could hear the water running from the shower and for a moment, he panicked. If it was Umbrella, there was no way they'd survive if they decided to shoot first and ask questions later.

A second knock spurred him into motion. His socks muffled his steps as he approached the door and gaze through the peep hole. The tension all but drained out of him. Red was starting to become his new favorite color. He undid the dead bolt and the door swung open.

"Thanks," Claire said as she squeezed past him into the room, arms laden down with shopping bags. Leon cleared the walkways before locking the door behind her. "I think I got everything we needed." She set the bags down and glanced around. "Where's Sherry?"

"Shower."

"Ah," Claire began sorting through the bags, separating the items into piles. Three piles of clothes formed as well as a pile for toiletries, a variety of instant food, and about half the pharmacy at Walmart. She gathered the smaller pile of clothes, a bit of the toiletries, and first aid supplies. "I'm going to take these into Sherry. Would you mind putting the food in the fridge?"

"Sure," He said, grabbing the rest of the bags in one hand and heading toward the small counter space that served as a kitchenette. It boasted a mini-fridge, microwave, and coffee maker with a few packets of instant coffee, cream, and sugar. He placed the bags in the mini-fridge and used the now empty shopping bags to stow the shed parts of his uniform. It struck him how utterly domestic all of this was. He could almost imagine them as a family on vacation instead of three strangers who had just survived the zombie apocalypse together. A small pain in his chest accompanied the thought.

He heard the water in the bathroom shut off and muffled voices just before the door opened. Sherry looked squeaky clean and utterly exhausted. Blond hair was much brighter without the bloody streaks. It had been detangled with a comb and still wet. A shirt of yellow with purple and pink flowers sewn into the bottom left hem and top right shoulder replaced her soiled white one. White capris covered her legs, but her feet remained bare.

Leon gave her a soft smile. "Who knew our brave Sherry was such a beautiful girl?" Sherry returned his smile, but it didn't reach her eyes and that pain in his chest returned. He knelt in front of her but didn't reach out, afraid of tainting her freshly clean skin with his dirty hands. "I know it's going to be difficult, but try to get some sleep okay? We're going to have a long day tomorrow."

Sherry nodded.

"You go on ahead and shower." Claire said as he straightened.

"You sure?"

"I'm sure," she replied as she tucked Sherry under the covers. "You need to get that wound clean."

Retrieving his pile of clothes and gun, Leon closed the bathroom door behind him. It was almost blindingly white with a rack of fluffy towels hanging next to the shower covered with a cheep plastic curtain. Placing his gun on the counter closest to the shower, he turned the water on as hot as he could stand it. He stripped himself out of his remain clothes and stepped in. The water made his skin sting enough that it almost overshadowed the open cuts. It ran black around his feet and swirled down the drain. He wished it would take the memories of yesterday with it. The heat was doing wonders for his aching muscles though, but it was quickly putting him to sleep. All the adrenaline from this hellish nightmare was fading fast. He scrubbed quickly, paying special attention to his shoulder, before getting out. Dressing was every bit as slow and painful as stripping and he made the mistake at glancing in the mirror.

The man standing before him looked nothing like the eager young cop from the morning before. Water-matted sandy blond hair hung in cornflower blue eyes. His skin was pale, enhancing the blue and purple bruises that littered his torso. There were quite a few gashes and scrapes along his arms and abdomen. The worst was obviously the gun shot wound. The skin surrounding the hole was puckered and inflamed with a bit of blood slowly oozing out.

Shaking himself out of his stupor, he reached for the first aid supplies on the counter when there was a soft tap at the door. "Come in."

Claire stuck her head in. "Hey, I thought you might need some help."

"Uh," he gazed at the roll of white gauze in his hand. "Maybe a little," he said a little sheepish.

Claire gave him an understanding smile as she gently took the gauze from his hand. He sat on the toilet seat as she began to gently bandage his wounds. The silence was calming and her presence a comfort he didn't know he needed. An alcohol-soaked cotton ball pressed against the row of bite marks on his neck and he hissed from the unexpected sting. "Sorry," she said hurriedly before blowing cool air against his skin to try and alleviate the pain. Goose bumps appeared accompanied by a blush in his cheeks. He cleared his throat.

"How's Sherry?"

"Asleep. She seems fine for now, but things like this stick with you. I just hope we can find her the help that she needs." Claire replied securing the bandages with medical tape. "All done."

He stood and grabbed a clean shirt off the end of the counter. It was harder to put on than he realized, and Claire stepped up to help, lifting his arm to put it into the sleeve and tugging the hem down. "Thank you, Claire." He said once he could breath again and she gazed up at him with crystal clear blue eyes.

"You're welcome."

Something warm fluttered in his stomach and he clear his throat again the banish it. Stepping away, he bent down and gathered his dirty clothes and gun. "Well, the bathroom's all yours."

"Right," she moved to the side to let him slip past her. The door clicked shut.

The lump on the second bed seemed to be Sherry as the little girl had wrapped herself securely in a cocoon of blankets. The steady rise and fall of the mound put him at ease. Stuffing his dirty things in another empty grocery bag, he sat on the bed, trying to be a careful as possible as not to wake her. The blankets were pulled up to her chin and she was curled into a tiny ball. Her mouth was parted slightly, letting out soft snores. She looked younger here than she had in Raccoon City and Leon supposed this was the way she was supposed to look. A bit of blood and running from flesh-eating zombies goes along way to aging a person. A lock of hair had fallen into her face and he reached out and brushed it aside. A part of him mourned for this little girl's lost childhood and he wished he could somehow erase the last twenty-four hours from her mind.

His grip on his Matilda tightened and he headed out to the balcony. The evening was crisp and cool without the scent of smoke or decaying flesh. One of the lounge chairs became his perch as he settled into it, resting his gun securely in his lap. The setting sun cast shades of orange and red streaking through the sky. Flashes of the nuked Raccoon City sky bombarded his brain and he shook them away. Laughter from a nearby balcony shockingly reminded him that they weren't the only ones alive in this motel, but his brain wanted to change the carefree laugher into starving hisses and moans. Fingers tightened around the grip of his gun and he tried to keep his breathing steady. He could see them, not even three feet in front of him. Skin rotten and torn and eyes as dead as their hearts. They morphed into the towering 'Mr. X', his vacant expression and tyrannical build sending his heart pounding in his ears. Claws burst from his chest as Dr. William Birkin tore him in half to reach his prey with a deafening roar.

He flinched hard and cursed as a third knock terrified him worse than the first two. Claire looked apologetic as she stepped out from the doorway. "Sorry," she said sitting on the other lounge chair next to his. "You should be resting."

It took Leon a moment to respond as Claire's new outfit had flipped the switch to his downstairs brain and it was a little difficult to switch it back. She was wearing booty shorts, denim with frayed ends. Sure, she was wearing some kind of leggings-thing underneath, but they barely reached mid-thigh. The black, under armor shirt accentuated every curve. It was her hair that got to him though. Freed from its restraining pony tail, it curled over her shoulders and looked like rubies and silk.

"I am resting," he replied entirely proud that his voice was steady and didn't crack like a fifteen-year-old just hitting puberty.

Claire gave him an incredulous look. "I meant sleeping."

Leon scoffed. "Yeah, well, I don't think any of us are getting any sleep any time soon."

"Sherry seems to be doing alright." She glanced through the windows at the living lump.

"Children tend to be more resilient than adults. They bounce back faster from trauma like this." Claire raised an inquisitive eyebrow at him and he shrugged. "I have a niece and a nephew."

Shifting her bare legs underneath her, Claire angled her body towards him. "Tell me about them."

He took a moment, contemplating what to say. "Colby's five and Layla's four. Their Sam's kids, my older brother. They come by the ranch a lot. Colby likes to ride the horses, especially Bill. He's Colby's favorite." Claire watched the little reminiscing smile fade from his face and Leon shook his head.

"This is far from over. What happened in Raccoon City is going to happen everywhere else unless we stop it. Companies like Umbrella, they don't care about people. They care only about how much money that can fit into their back pocket." He looked her dead in the eye. "We have to stop them, Claire. For Sherry and all the others like her."

The passion and determination in his gaze tugged at her, igniting a fire in her that could never be quenched. She nodded. "And we will, but I need to find Chris first. He's all I have left." She looked away from his questioning gaze. "My parents died when I was little. Chris practically raised me. I _have_ to find him."

"I understand," Leon said. "When will you leave?"

Claire shrugged. "Sometime in the morning. I just…I don't want to leave you and Sherry."

Leon smiled softly. "We'll be alright."

"I need you to promise me that."

"Only if you promise me the same." They stared at each other, eyes saying more than words could.

"That's not something we can promise, is it?"

Leon shook his head sadly and Claire sighed. "I guess we could at least keep in touch. Here." She stood and headed back into the hotel room. Leon tried to follow her with his eyes, but she was back quickly with the hotel note pad and pen in her hands. Scribbling something on a piece, she tore it off and handed it to him. "It's my number and email address, in case you need to reach me."

"Thanks," Leon said before tugging the pad out of her grip and returning the favor with his own contact information.

"What's going to happen with Sherry?" Claire asked as she folded the piece of paper and slipped it into her pocket.

"I don't know," Leon answered honestly. "I was planning to take her home with me until I could figure out what to do. Is it considered kidnapping when the kid's parents were killed and mutated by a virus that wiped out an entire population of an urban city?"

Claire snorted at his attempt at humor.

"Don't worry Clair. I'll take care of her." She smiled softly at him and he couldn't help but return it.

Sudden laughter echoed across the lot and they both tensed, battle ready. The gun was immediately in his hands as he gazed around for the threat. It took him longer than it should have to remember the other hotel guests. He let out a slow breath to release the tension in his muscles and lowered his weapon.

"Jesus, I've been jumpy all night." Claire stated once she could breath again.

"Me too. I can't get it out of my head. I keep seeing Birkin and Mr. X. Every person is a zombie now and I can't…I can't…I don't want to feel like this. I don't want to be on edge and flinching at every shadow that passes by. I just want to forget."

Claire sighed softly. "I know." She stood and held out her hand. "Come on, we should get some sleep." His hand slipped into hers and she pulled him upright. Leon moved passed her, gun held firmly in his hand.

"Leon," he turned as Claire stepped up to him. Fingers trailed softly across his cheek. He watched as she stood on her toes and brushed her lips against his. The pressure was soft and warm, but not insistent. His eyes slid shut and he let himself feel this. Feel the warmth of another human being. One that he risked life and limb for. One that, in one night, became more to him than anyone could ever hope to be.

After a moment, she pulled away, eyes half lidded, and he almost chased after her. "What was that for?" He asked breathless.

Claire shrugged. "A thank you, I guess. You saved my life tonight; many times, and I have no way to thank you for that. I figure the kiss was a good start."

"You saved my life too you know, so…" He gently grabbed her chin and leaned down. This kiss was firmer, and her arms found their way around his neck as his hand pressed against the small of her back, bringing her closer. Tilting his head for a better angle, he deepened the kiss, allowing him to taste her. Minty from the tooth paste and something sweet, like strawberries and vanilla. Hands tugged on the hairs at the base of his skull and he couldn't stop the moan the slipped out. Her tongue took advantage of his slip and skimmed the roof of his mouth, tickling slightly, before caressing his own.

He's never had a kiss quite like this before, not even with his ex. It both boiled his blood to the point of wanting to shove her against a wall and keep her wrapped in his embrace and never let her go.

He could feel the apex of the kiss receding as her teeth tugged gently on his bottom lip before she pulled away. She kissed his closed mouth once, twice, before leaning back. Their eyes connected, and Leon could see something shinning in hers that warmed him from his head to his toes. He smiled down at her.

"Now, we really need to get to sleep." Claire said but the small inflection in her voice suggested something different.

Still smiling, Leon leaned down once more and placed a chaste kiss to her rosy cheek. "Thank you, Claire." He whispered, touching his forehead to hers. Her answering grin sent his heart fluttering. They stood like that, just holding each other, for as long as they could before Claire slipped out of his grasp and into the room. Leon followed, shutting the balcony door, locking it, and closing the curtains. Claire's silhouette slipped under the covers next to Sherry, leaving the first bed free for him. Placing his Matilda on the night stand, Leon laid down, mindful of his shoulder. He listened to the soft breathing of his companions as he closed his eyes and willed sleep to come.

BREAKLINE

Returning to consciousness was terrible as the throbbing in his shoulder woke him before he was ready. He hissed as he sat up slowly, hand pressed against the joint to try and alleviate the pain. He stood and walked to the small kitchenette counter. Pain pills rested just in front of a glass of water, no doubt left by Claire, and he swallowed three of them. They wouldn't take the pain away, but they would take the edge off. The bathroom was his next destination as he refreshed himself before heading to Claire's side of the bed. He called her name softly, not wanting to startle her. Blue eyes blinked open and gazed up at him. "What time is it?" She asked.

"Ten till eight," He replied. "We should head out soon."

She nodded. "I'll wake Sherry."

Leon moved around the room, collecting their things and getting them ready to go as Claire gently roused Sherry. That domestic feeling was back and with it came the feeling that his chance at having a nice, normal life at been blown out of the sky with Raccoon City. He shrugged those thoughts away as he laced up his boots.

They ate the food Claire bought late night in silence. Both adults wanting to put of their departure off as long as possible but were too afraid to stay a moment longer. Claire wrapped Sherry in her motorcycle jacket before crouching down in front of her. "I have to say goodbye now Sherry."

The twelve-year-old looked at her, confused. "What do you mean? Aren't you coming with us?"

Claire reluctantly shook her head. "I have to find Chris, but don't worry, Leon's going to take good care of you."

"But…we need to stay together. We're safer together." Sherry replied her eyes filling with tears. "I don't want you to go."

"I know sweetheart," Claire said pulling her into a hug. "I know, but we'll see each other again. I promise."

Sherry held her tighter, not wanting to let go, before forcing herself to release her friend. Claire caressed her cheek and gave her a smile. She stood and gave Leon his own hug. "Be careful," she commanded in his ear.

"You too." He pressed a kiss to her temple.

She pulled away and took a deep breath. "Here," Leon reached into his back pocket and took out the keys. "Take the car."

"You sure?"

"We'll take the bus." He pressed the keys into her hand.

Her fingers clinched around the warm metal and she nodded. She ran her hand through Sherry's hair once more. "I'll see you later." She said giving him a wink.

Leon and Sherry watched the vehicle pull out of the parking lot and disappear down the road. A small, warm hand slipped into his and he gave it a comforting squeeze. "Come on," he said softy, pulled the little girl with him. They started off down the sidewalk, stopping only once for directions. They avoid crowds, both of them too anxious to try and blend in any more than they already were. Leon had to make a conscious effort to slow his pace for Sherry. Her legs weren't as long as his.

They were nearly to their destination, a little flame of hope kindling in his chest, when a man stepped out into their path. Leon stopped short and pulled Sherry slightly behind him. Small fingers clung to the hem of his shirt. The man was dressed in a pitch-black business suit with a simple black tie. His suit jacket fluttered a little in the breeze and Leon caught a glimpse of a sidearm strapped to his side. His grip on Sherry tightened. An unmarked SUV pulled up beside them and three more men got out, surrounding them. They were well and truly trapped. His Matilda was heavy against the small of his back. He contemplated drawing it.

"I wouldn't if I were you." The man spoke, and Leon's attention snapped back to him.

A gasp from Sherry forced him to pull her to his front as one of the suits behind him relieved him of his weapon.

"Leon Kennedy." How the hell did this guy know his name? "My name is Jason Deckard. I'm with the FBI. I need you to come with me."

"Badge."

The man tilted his head a fraction. "Excuse me?"

"Show me your badge. I want to see it."

The man reached into his inner jacket pocket and retrieved the requested item, flipping it open. "Satisfied?" The badge disappeared. "If you would please get in the vehicle. We would like to debrief you on what occurred in Raccoon City."

One of the other suits opened the door and waited patiently. Leon hesitated, looking from the open door, to the suit, then to Sherry clinging to his waist. She gazed up at him with fearful eyes as she waited for him to take the lead. Seeing no other option, he helped her into the car and followed after. The closing of the door sounded too much like a coffin lid as he pulled Sherry close.

The ride was silent and tense and carried on for at least half an hour. The windows were tented but there wasn't much to see outside the one-horse town that had been their shelter for the night. He felt the car come to a stop and the door beside him opened. "Step out please," the suit ordered, and Leon complied. Their feet had barely touched the ground when Sherry was suddenly wrenched from his grasp.

"No, Leon!" She cried struggling in another man's grip.

"Sherry!" Leon reached for her, but hands grabbed his arms. Acting on instinct, Leon threw his elbow back and it collided with something solid. There was an audible snap and strangled curse and the hands released him. He ran toward her before being tackled from behind and wrestled to the ground. He could see Sherry being dragged away from him as he struggled to free himself from the weight on top of him. He could almost feel the teeth tearing into his neck.

"Stop resisting!"

"Where are you taking her?!" Hands twisted his arms behind his back and his shoulder screamed. "Where are you taking her?!" Still no answer. "Sherry!"

A forearm pressed his cheek into the dirt. "Stop resisting!" The pressure increased. "Stop resisting!"

He obeyed and went limp. The movement above him ceased. "Will you comply?" Leon took a deep breath and tried not to inhale dust. "Officer Kennedy, will you comply?"

The use of his title brought some sense back to his adrenaline fevered brain. "I will comply." He said twice more before he was jerked upward, his shoulder burning, and marched off toward a single-level cylinder block building. He figured it was some kind of police station as he was shoved into an interrogation room complete with a metal table, chairs, and two-way mirror. The door slammed shut behind him and locked before the footsteps faded away.

Leon paced the room a few times before landing heavily in the chair, face cradled in his hands. He'd lost Sherry. He had her for barely an hour before she was ripped from him. Hands tugged harshly at his hair before they hung limply from his knees. This was all his fault. He should've been more diligent. He should have taken a less direct route, should have blended in with the crowds. Hell, they should have gone with Claire.

He didn't know how long he sat there, only that it was long enough for him to let his self-esteem crash to an all-time low and for his ass to go numb. His shoulder burned with the fury of a pissed off girlfriend and he was reminded that his battered body had practically been body-slammed to the hard ground.

There was a sudden shrill of a comm system and he nearly flinched at the noise. "Officer Leon S. Kennedy. I'm a little surprised that someone as green as you survived a crisis like Raccoon City and with a little girl no less." The voice was high pitched like a weasel and grated on his ears, not like any voice he's heard so far.

"Who are you?" Leon questioned to the two-way mirror.

"You'll find out soon enough."

"You can't keep us here."

"We can do whatever we please with you. You and the girl."

"Just leave her out of this." Leon demanded. "She's an innocent."

"An innocent that carries the G-antibody." Shit, they knew about the virus. "Don't worry, we're taking very good care of her." Leon's hands clinched around his knees at his tone. He wondered how many tests and experiments qualified as 'care'. Elbows replaced his hands as he leaned forward.

"Bottom line is…you have the experience we're looking for. So, if you want this to end peaceful, you only really have one choice. Work for us."

This was crazy. "This is your recruitment spiel? Blackmail? I bet that works on all the rookies." He scoffed. This was way out of his control.

There was no response from the comm. He sighed. "Fine, you want me to work for you, then Sherry gets a normal life."

"You're in no position to make demands."

"Perhaps, but if you want me to be completely compliant, then Sherry says safe."

It was quiet. "We'll discuss it, until then. Welcome to hell, Agent Kennedy."


End file.
